Mortal Bonds
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #92 The inexplicable disappearance of Spock's wife leaves both him and his neighbor Antonia Kirk vulnerable.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: The upcoming subseries, "Pinehaven", will explain how Tess left home, and focus on her relationships._

 **Chapter 1**

Bright morning sunlight slanted through the classroom windows as Spock oversaw the semester's final examination. Seated at his desk, he observed sparkling dust motes floating above his star pupil Tamod as the young Vulcan concentrated on his computer screen, fingers to the keypad. Spock's attention shifted to Suran. He had no concern that either student would fail the course. "Rediscovering Surak through the Mind of Yanash" was a perennial favorite among seminarians. For that reason, Spock always saved it for the end of the term.

Satisfied that all was well, he returned to his own monitor, where he was writing a new textbook on the growth of the Yanashite Community outside the home world of Vulcan. Quite logically, his thoughts went to his wife T'Naisa and their parting a few hours earlier. In the years since their daughter Tess left home, T'Naisa had spent more time on the lecture circuit. She enjoyed making the rounds of Earth's Yanashite outposts, recalling her days as a disciple of Yanash with a mixture of deep faith and humor. Thanks to her dedication, he could now devote himself almost exclusively to the formation of future priests here at Plum Creek.

In the midst of his writing, Spock realized that the time for the examination was up. He reached for the touchpad that would deactivate the student monitors…

And at that instant, a storm of rage struck.

Spock froze. He saw nothing, heard nothing but a cyclonic fury at the center of his being. Only gradually he came to realize that he was still sitting in his chair while the students worked on, oblivious to his personal distress. Unobserved, he struggled to find the anger's source and contain it. And came at last to his bonding nexus. 

His hands began to tremble, but by a supreme effort he composed himself and stood. The students looked up as he levelly announced, "The examination is over. You are free to gather your belongings and leave the seminary."

oooo

In the privacy of his home, Spock sat before the phone, still as Vulcan granite while his call went out to T'Naisa for the fifth time. There was no longer any doubt of it; the rage was hers. But why? What could have affected her so deeply that it felt like a scorching pain? When she failed to answer his call, the system cycled to her mailbox. He had already left two messages, so now he waited.

Fresh bouts of trembling overtook him and he made little attempt to control it. Two hours passed, during which the sense of anger gradually faded and T'Naisa seemed strangely distant from him. Distant, but alive.

When at last the phone chimed, he somehow responded, feeling stiff and cold and sluggish. He knew by the caller ID that it was his eldest son Simon, at the Phoenix, Arizona temple.

On the screen, Simon looked concerned. "Father, have you heard from T'Naisa? I've been trying to get hold of her. She missed a speaking engagement."

oooo

Something was terribly wrong. Spock stared at the darkened phone screen, feeling as dull as its blank surface. Scarcely aware of his own actions, he rose. An unbearable pressure in his chest made him restless, and he began to pace. The sound of his steps seemed jarring in the hollow silence of the cabin.

His eyes lit on a small table and he stopped. In her haste this morning T'Naisa had rushed off, leaving her mug half full of coffee. Spock picked it up and inhaled the familiar scent of her favorite beverage. She drank coffee by the potful, no matter how he chided her. For a long time he held the flowered mug in his hands as if by touching it, he could somehow reach her.

At last, very carefully, he put the mug down and wandered into the bedroom. He stood staring at the bed they had so recently shared—the pillow where her soft red hair lay as she slept beside him, only this morning. Having lost his first wife tragically, he had known better than to take T'Naisa's unfailing love for granted. Her lively, endearing personality had been a vital part of his life for decades. Since she, too, was a halfling, he had hoped they would have many more years together.

 _Why am I thinking these thoughts?_ he asked himself. _She is not dead. I would know if she were dead._

Rousing himself, he returned to the phone and attempted to locate her through another series of calls.

oooo

Alone, Spock stood on a barren stretch of Australian land while curious kangaroos watched from a distance. He now knew that T'Naisa had disappeared from an Alice Springs depot when her shuttle stopped to take on passengers, but three days of personal investigation had not turned up a single lead.

 _Vanished. Without a trace. Not a single sign of foul play._

This morning, Australia's Yanashite priest had come to town and offered the sacred rite of Kuru for her return. The borrowed church building was crowded with both Vulcans and humans whose lives she had touched. Seated with family and friends, Spock had viewed the proceedings through a persistent fog of uncertainty. To him, T'Naisa was more than an honored member of the Yanashite Community. She was his wife—his bondmate—welcoming his embrace, mothering his children, galloping atop her horse, hair streaming like a red banner. _Oh what fun,_ she would laugh with her childlike zest for living. Spock tried to focus on their time together and be thankful for it. _But where had she gone? Had he in some way failed her?_

On the morning of her departure, he had walked in upon her as she was viewing messages on the computer. When she quickly ordered a "delete", his brow had lifted in surprise. Only partly in jest he had said, "A secret admirer?"

"A fanatic. You don't need to read what he wrote."

"I get them, too," he had told her. It was a common price of fame.

"And I hope you're as quick as me at deleting that trash. So help me, if I ever catch you…" And her eyes had flashed a warning.

"You are in a strange mood," he had observed, "if you think I would ever be unfaithful. Have we not settled that particular issue once and for all?"

Rising from the chair, she had put her arms tightly around him and said, "Don't you ever think of leaving me."

Now Spock could not help but wonder if she had left _him._ Some were whispering that she had returned to the wild ways of her youth, but his heart could not accept it. They were bondmates in every sense of the word. Surely he would have known if she was growing discontented. Wouldn't he?

oooo

In Colorado, Nayo was amused to hear of T'Naisa's abrupt departure, leaving Spock without the comfort and pleasure of a bondmate. Now the insufferable prig would find out what it was like to have his woman gone. How long would it take before he strayed from his lonely bedroom? Spock was always so quick to criticize him when celebrity news outlets spread gossip about his extracurricular activities. Spock did not have a wife who left on covert assignments for months at a time, and since a Zaran could block any meld, Nayo never knew what Sola Thane had been up to. One of these times she might never come back at all.

The days were gone when Nayo dabbled in the Yanashite religion. The past had too strong a hold on him, and the life of a movie star was rife with temptations. Even Sola had come to accept his indiscretions, but not Spock. Oh no, not his pristine pure twin.

Seated in his lavish living room, Nayo assumed a suitably sorrowful expression and put through a call to Spock on his new padd. His ever-conscientious brother answered on the third ring.

"Greetings, Nayo," Spock said. The screen made him look very small, but not so small that Nayo could not easily detect a faintly stiff, disapproving manner.

Drawing on his skill as an actor, Nayo said, "Brother. I should have called before now to offer my condolences. T'Naisa gone. I can scarcely believe it."

"Yes," Spock said, pain evident in his eyes.

"Might I assist in some way?" Nayo offered with a show of sincerity. "I have the acquaintance of a reputable detective. If funds are a problem, I can pay him myself. Anything for you, brother..."

Spock was silent a moment, and judging by subtle nuances of expression, it was a most gratifyingly irritable silence. At last he said, "I thank you for the kind offer, but I have already hired a detective agency."

Nayo offered a tight, appropriately sympathetic smile. Definitely Oscar material. "Most efficient, as always. Feel free to call me if you change your mind."

He could stand no more. Without waiting for an answer, he broke the connection and dissolved into hearty laughter.

From the kitchen, a woman's sultry voice called to him. "Something funny, Nayo?"

"Oh, yes," he chuckled, "hilarious."

oooo

The seminarians would not return until September. For the first time since the death of his first wife, Spock was living alone, and his grown children did not like it. T'Beth, in particular, fretted over him, for she remembered his spiritual collapse after finding Lauren and little Teresa murdered by the young Vulcan he had taken into their home. Spock's aging uncle, Sparn, showed a similar concern when he came all the way from Vulcan to pay Spock a visit. On the day of his departure, they spoke by the corral where T'Naisa's horse stood placidly enjoying the late afternoon shade.

"Sultan is small for an Appaloosa," Spock explained to his uncle, "but handsome and sweet-tempered. He'll make a good riding horse for the boys at Dreamcatcher."

"The ranch in California operated by your son James," Sparn recalled.

"Yes," replied Spock, and for a time they discussed the fine work James and his partner were doing with troubled and abused youngsters.

Sparn glanced around the clearing and said, "This place is very secluded. Since the founding of temples in the warmer climes, fewer Vulcans live in this area. You are no longer running a retreat house, and with the seminarians away…" His dark, discerning eyes found Spock once again. "Yanash tells us that it is not good for a Vulcan to live in isolation. We are so...introverted by nature."

Spock shrank from the thought of company. It had been difficult enough sharing his home with Sparn for a week. Hoping to deflect his uncle's concern, he said, "I will take up the matter of an assistant when the seminary reopens."

"Certainly, you _will_ need assistance…but I am frankly troubled about you living here without a bondmate. A good woman…like my T'Prinka…helps open one's heart. And there is the matter of our seven year cycle…" His voice trailed off, leaving an awkward silence.

Spock drew a slow breath, feeling the strange numbness in his bonding center, refusing the tears that rose dangerously near the surface. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "Do we or do we not trust Yanash to fulfill his promise of freedom? And perhaps…T'Naisa will someday return."

Sparn focused on some distant point, and there was only the sound of birds singing. Very quietly he said, "May it be so. We all loved her."

His use of the past tense pained Spock as he received his uncle's parting embrace. Then the solitude of the mountain closed over him.

oooo

High in the loft of her ranch house, Antonia Cordova Kirk studied her latest painting and sighed deeply. Capturing her friend's lively spirit on canvas was proving almost impossible. Carefully mixing colors, she had matched T'Naisa's skin tone and fiery hair perfectly, as well as the glint of amusement in those dark eyes. But something was still missing.

Sudden tears welled, blurring the image. _T'Naisa, I still can't believe you're gone...has it already been six weeks?_

Using the back of her hand, she wiped her eyes. Then she set her brushes to soak before heading downstairs. With Sam and Jenny married, she had the place all to herself again. For much of her adult life she had lived alone, but today the house seemed much too quiet. T'Naisa's disappearance was stirring up emotions that she had worked long and hard to suppress.

Wrestling with her conscience, she went into the kitchen and opened the cooler. Tortillas and cheese, black olives and onions. As if of their own accord, her hands set about making a large batch of enchiladas. There would be plenty to share with her neighbor, and why not? When she was grieving over Jim's supposed death, Spock had come to her aid repeatedly, never taking no for an answer…until, in the end, she had loved him for it. Made a fool of herself, and perhaps she was being foolish now. But having suffered grief of her own, having experienced the numbing loss of a spouse, how could she stand by, ignoring a friend in pain?

When Antonia drove up to the cabin at Plum Creek, Spock's slender form rose from T'Naisa's vegetable garden. Brushing dirt from his hands, he came over to greet her.

"Antonia," he said politely. "Good afternoon."

She set a covered casserole dish on the hood of her car. "I made a big batch of enchiladas, and knowing how you like them..."

"Most kind," he said formally.

She doubted he would invite her inside, though there was a time when he had thought nothing of sitting in her loft for hours, fascinated by the creative process of her painting. She had mistaken Spock's interest in fine art for interest in her, and since that troubled time, the two of them had avoided being alone together. Though Spock had scarcely changed, age was creeping up fast on Antonia. But she had not come here to complain of graying hair and twinges of arthritis. Her heart ached with empathy for Spock's loss. Lean by nature, he seemed to have grown even thinner, and a weary look in his eyes told of long sleepless nights. Oh, how well she remembered those...

There was no sense asking if he had heard from T'Naisa. Instead, she inquired, '"How are you doing?"

He turned his head aside. She followed his line of sight to the empty corral where insects lazily buzzed in the summer heat.

With a lump in her throat she said, "I miss her, too. I've never forgotten how good you were to me...when we thought Jim had died in the _Enterprise_. If there's any way I can help..."

Still gazing at the corral, he nodded. Then he drew a deep breath and met her eyes. "It is the uncertainty..."

Antonia swallowed against a gathering thickness. "Jim returned for a while. Maybe T'Naisa will make it back, too. She was such a dear friend. I keep thinking of that deep, simple faith of hers…and the way she could make me laugh…"

He made a sound in his throat and his solemn mouth curved into the suggestion of a smile. And though nothing had ever been said, Antonia wondered if T'Naisa made him laugh, too.

oooo

Spock stood holding the pan of enchiladas and watched his good neighbor drive away. Then he went indoors and ate them, one after the other, surprised at how they awakened his hunger after weeks of replicated fare. Oh, he had been to Pinehaven for a few dinners with Tess and her family, and he appreciated those visits. Tess seemed to be dealing fairly well with her mother's disappearance. She had matured into a strong sensible woman, and her relationship with her husband was solid.

Spock certainly knew the importance of a loving marital partnership…as did Antonia, who had suffered greatly because of Jim Kirk's final desertion. As always, the thought of his friend Jim brought an unpleasant stirring of guilt. After all these years, he could not shake an illogical feeling that he should somehow have foreseen Jim's plan and acted to prevent his reckless return to the Nexus. He had read the accusation in young Sam Kirk's eyes…as an unhappy boy, and even now on those rare occasions when their paths crossed.

Spock heated another cheese enchilada and followed the current of his thoughts as he resumed eating.

Antonia Kirk was very different from her son. In her, Spock had never sensed any blame. During the eighteen years since Jim's disappearance, she had come and gone from Plum Creek, visiting T'Naisa, sharing an occasional meal at their table, never once acting cold or resentful. He blamed himself for that long-ago incident in her loft, when a widow's loneliness drove her into his arms. He had shown an irresponsible lack of judgment by spending so much time alone with her, heedlessly indulging his interest in art, and they had both suffered painful consequences.

Pulling his mind back into the present, Spock reached for another enchilada. The pan was empty. He looked at the padd beside it, lit with a poem of Li Bai.

"Clouds bring back to mind her dress, the flowers her face.

Winds of spring caress the rail where sparkling dewdrops cluster.

If you cannot see her by the jeweled mountain top,

Maybe on the moonlit Jasper Terrace you will meet her."

As he read the poetic verses his heart ached for his bondmate. _Where was she?_

oooo

In mid-August, Antonia returned from an art show and rushed off to a doctor's appointment—the third in an ongoing series only her children knew about. Not that she could keep the treatments secret for very long. Already the changes in her appearance were becoming evident, and to tell the truth, she found the situation a little embarrassing, for she had always resisted the idea of rejuvenation. Why the sudden change of attitude? She knew only that it had something to do with T'Naisa, with the vagaries of life, with a need to set aside the past and fully embrace each and every remaining day. She was suddenly tired of being tired, of awakening stiff and quitting work early for lack of energy.

Back home, she studied herself in the bathroom mirror. There were definite signs of dark color near the roots of every gray hair. Her tan skin was becoming tauter, the little lines around her eyes less noticeable. Each day she seemed more energetic, freer of the aches and pains that had been creeping up on her for years. Here it was, late afternoon on a busy day, and she felt like baking. After dyeing her hair back to its natural black, she would head for the kitchen.

Antonia was taking the last pan of cookies out of the oven when she heard the hum of an air car. Out the window, she recognized the vehicle T'Naisa had always driven, and was startled and pleased to see Spock get out. Holding her casserole pan, he headed for the porch.

She quickly slipped off her apron and met him at the front door with a neighborly smile. "Well, what a nice surprise."

He briefly studied her freshly dyed hair before holding out the pan. "I thought you might be needing this."

"Thanks," she said, taking it from him. "I hope you enjoyed the enchiladas."

"Indeed. Every one. It was most considerate of you."

An idea struck her. "I just baked a batch of peanut butter cookies. Come in, I'll send some home with you."

His left eyebrow quirked, and she remembered sugar's inebriating effect on the Vulcan system. Was that the problem? Or was it the memory of that old visit to her loft when she made a play for him?

"Thank-you," he said with a hint of regret, "but I must be going."

"No, wait right here," she countered. Leaving him, she rushed into the kitchen and filled the pan with warm cookies.

Spock did not refuse them.

An impulsive idea came to Antonia. "I've been wondering. Would it be alright if I came over to Plum Creek…say, next week…and did a landscape?"

Spock considered. Before he could refuse her, she asked him once again to wait while she ran up to the loft for a canvas that was barely dry. Back outside, she propped her latest work against the porch rail. It was a magnificent mountain scene featuring golden shafts of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

A bit sheepishly she explained, "It's the view from your Inspiration Point. I rode over there on horseback. Hope you don't mind." She watched his eyes devour every nuance of the image. "What do you think?"

"Remarkable," he said low.

His simple praise thrilled her. Spock's opinion of her art still mattered more than anyone's. "About next week..." she pressed.

Once more, he considered. Then he turned from the painting and looked at her. "Is Saturday convenient?"

She mentally reviewed her schedule and told him, "My afternoon is free."

"I'll see you then," he said with a nod, and his next words came as a shock. "You are welcome to stay for dinner."

oooo

Spock was at the creek with two of his grandchildren when Antonia arrived. By the time he reached the car, Tess and her husband came out of the cabin. There was no need for introductions; even the children knew Antonia as T'Naisa's friend. Her dark eyes twinkled as she took stock of the family group. Now she understood why Spock had included a dinner invitation.

As if reading her mind, Spock said, "I realize that you had not expected so many people, but no one will come near while you are painting."

Knowing his interest in the creative process, she wondered, _Not even you?_

Spock helped carry her equipment to the far end of the clearing and watched her set up. And with the first stroke of her charcoal, his attention was indeed captured. Antonia had already decided on her subject—a pleasant view of the cabin, complete with its summer lilacs and woodland backdrop. Seated on her stool, wearing a paint-daubed artist's smock, she expertly roughed out the scene and proceeded to mix her colors. Half an hour passed before Spock left her side and went back to his family, but the allure of Antonia's artistry was so powerful that he returned again and again.

oooo

Sunshine streamed through the windows of her airy loft as Antonia put the finishing touches on the Plum Creek painting. Imagining herself back in the wide clearing, she could almost smell the warm pine scent and feel Spock looking over her shoulder. With a sigh, she applied a final daub of highlight to a flower and leaned back, satisfied with the wistful feeling the painting conveyed. How T'Naisa had loved that cabin. There was no way she would have left it…and Spock…voluntarily, no matter how Spock seemed to sense her living presence. The pain of grief could trick anyone. Antonia knew firsthand, and her heart went out to him with a tenderness that was beyond ordinary sympathy.

It was fast becoming apparent that the rejuvenation therapy was affecting more than her hair and skin. All these years she had worked hard to control her feelings for Spock, swiftly and firmly rejecting every adulterous thought until they all but disappeared. The aging process had helped, but now the old yearnings were creeping back, bringing a resurgence of dreams—furtive visions of illicit passion in the arms of her best friend's husband. She would need to be very careful. No more enchiladas, no more inviting herself to Plum Creek. Now that T'Naisa was gone, she had better keep a safe distance from Spock and restrict her neighborliness to the phone.

oooo

In September, the seminarians returned to Plum Creek and Spock was ready for them. Out of necessity, he had appointed a fellow instructor—a fine, well-qualified Yanashite who freed him to engage in occasional lecture tours. It was on just such a tour that T'Naisa had vanished.

He welcomed the busy season, filling his days with Yanashite concerns and his nights with meditative prayer. Seated before his attunement flame, hands resting palms-upward, he communed with Yanash for hours, but in the morning there remained an empty place in his heart that no prayer could fill completely.

Along the creek, wild plum trees turned a brilliant shade of yellow that reminded Spock of the oil paint in one of Antonia's tubes. In his quest for peace, had he been neglecting his hospitality toward her? She still checked on him regularly by phone, and her kindness reminded him of a helpful neighbor in Arizona when he had been grieving for Lauren and Teresa. They were both warm-natured Hispanic women. Antonia had been born a Cordova of Mexican extraction and still used that name to sign her canvasses. Each time Spock saw her on the phone screen, she seemed to grow younger, but today when she answered his call, he was taken by her loveliness.

After an awkward hesitation, he said, "You...appear well."

Her dusky skin showed a hint of a blush, and her brown eyes widened as if she had been caught doing something improper. "I'm sure you've noticed my rejuve treatments." She paused before asking, "Do you…think it's wrong?"

She looked as if she truly cared about his opinion. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "Even Vulcans sometime make use of such therapies…if deemed logical."

She flashed a crooked smile. "What do I know of logic? I'm an artist, not a scientist."

The familiar turn of phrase raised Spock's eyebrow. "Your wording reminds me very much of an old friend. But in fact, it _is_ your art that prompted me to call. The autumn colors are vivid along the creek. You are welcome to paint the scene, if you don't mind the seminarians observing…"

oooo

Brimming with excitement, Antonia threw together a pan of chilies relleno and took them with her to Plum Creek. It was the least she could do, just a small gesture of appreciation.

"They're mild," she promised Spock as she handed them over. "I took out every last seed."

He thanked her for the effort, and she set to work with a slow, pleasant pace that took three wonderful days to complete. Now and then the seminarians checked on her progress, and for fun she sketched both of the men, letting them keep the likenesses. Throughout the days, Spock came and went, always making sure someone else was present. She sketched him, too. It was a fanciful drawing, part memory and part imagination, arms folded over his chest in a relaxed manner as he leaned against the thick trunk of a pine. When she gave him the charcoal sketch, duly signed, his eyebrows rose.

He said, "I never posed for this."

Touching a fingertip to her temple, she smiled, but the sketch was more truly the work of her heart. By the look in his eyes, he suspected it, and in that moment of truth she did not care if her love showed.

Antonia didn't see him again until Christmas week, when he was about to leave for his daughter T'Beth's home in Scottsdale, Arizona. Throwing caution to the cold winter winds, she drove through a light snowfall to deliver a gift to him. Responding to her knock, he opened the cabin door, and the dilemma she presented made his jaw drop noticeably.

"Antonia," he said, nothing more. Obviously he was quite alone, not willing to invite her inside, yet equally unable to leave her freezing on the porch. Finally he decided in favor of courtesy. Backing up, he said, "Please come in."

She carried a big gift-wrapped painting into the hot cabin. Spock closed the door and adjusted the temperature for human comfort.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked, knowing full well that it was, and regretting that she had not called ahead. "I just wanted to give you this. Go ahead, open it."

His eyes went to the sleek red paper with its candy cane pattern. To his credit, he managed to say, "This is most unexpected."

As he took it from her, Antonia glanced around the tidy living room, her eyes coming to rest on the table beside T'Naisa's favorite chair. At the sight of the blue iris coffee mug, a pang of grief struck her.

Spock finished ripping away the paper. One hand steadying the frame, he stared at the rendering of Inspiration Point. He seemed unwilling…or unable…to speak.

Antonia could not think what to say, except, "I know you liked it, and you've been such a good friend to me…"

Lifting the painting with care, he propped it safely against a wall. Then he turned to her with gratitude in his eyes. "I do like it...very much. Thank-you." And he added, "Would you stay for some Vulcan tea? Or perhaps you would prefer coffee."

 _Coffee_. Antonia shared T'Naisa's love of the beverage, and for that very reason she decided against it. "Tea would be fine."

As Spock went into the kitchen, she walked over and picked up T'Naisa's mug. Sparkling clean, not a speck of dust on it. For a moment she just held the cup close, thinking of T'Naisa and remembering her own strange quirks while grieving for Jim. Back then, it was Spock who had come into _her_ home, persisting in his efforts to help her until she finally rose from the darkness.

Heart pounding hard, Antonia headed for the kitchen. Spock glanced up from the counter and immediately noticed the mug in her hands.

"Any word of her?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

He slowly shook his head.

Very deliberately she opened a cupboard and set the mug on a shelf. Spock met her eyes and though the pain in them was hard to bear, he did not object to her meddling. A silent dialogue passed between them, acknowledging what they both knew of loss. Then Spock turned away and finished preparing the tea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

In early February, a blizzard struck at dawn, rousing Spock from a dream in which he had been arguing with T'Naisa. It was many years in the past and she wrongly suspected him of carrying on an affair with Antonia Kirk. In his dream-frustration he had actually shouted at her, but now that he was awake the anger quickly dissipated, leaving only a sense of deep remorse.

Pulling on his robe, he padded barefoot into the living room and raised the heat. Icy gusts buffeted the cabin as he peered out the window at the swirling white tempest. _Wild weather._ It would have thrown T'Naisa into an excited state, for she loved it so. But Spock had no intention of venturing out, even to the seminary on the far side of the clearing. People easily lost their way in these blinding mountain storms. He placed a call to his assistant instructor, making it clear that everyone was to remain indoors.

His thoughts then turned to Antonia, all by herself on the Kirk ranch. Almost before he realized what he had done, her phone was ringing.

A very sleepy voice answered, "...Hello?"

Embarrassed to have awakened her, Spock cleared his throat. Fortunately he had not activated the phone screen, for he was still wearing his robe and had not even combed his hair.

"Spock here," he said. "Sorry to disturb you."

She seemed instantly alert. "I was just about to get up, anyway." She paused. "Wow! Listen to that wind!"

"It's a full blizzard," Spock told her. "I wanted to make sure that you are safe."

Another pause. Then warmly she said, "How thoughtful. Well, everything's fine here. I'm just going to snuggle up by my fireplace and drink cocoa."

Spock had hung her painting on the living room wall, and now his eyes went to it as he pictured her by her hearth while the storm raged. He said, "If you should need any help..."

"I'll let you know," she promised. And so the call ended.

Spock dressed, and as he ate breakfast, he attempted to analyze his emotional state. Clearly, he was feeling a strong need to protect Jim's wife. _Why?_ Logic answered of its own accord. Antonia herself had said it. They were friends.

Satisfied, he peeled an orange _._

oooo

The storm precisely followed its forecast course and showed no sign of abating. By ten a.m., the windblown drifts completely filled Spock's porch, blocking the front door and windows with a solid wall of ice. Tess phoned from Pinehaven, letting him know that her family was safe. One by one, Spock's other children called to check on him. Then the phone went silent.

Alone in the snowbound cabin, Spock felt a tugging in his heart. As the wind roared, he decided to search among T'Naisa's things for some clue to her disappearance that he might have overlooked. He was in the bedroom when an antique book caught his eye. _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ by Betty Smith. Tucked between the pages, he found a piece of folded paper delicately inscribed by T'Naisa's hand. _"To my husband Spock, in the event of my death."_

A chill caught him and he sat down on the bed. For unmeasured time he stared at the paper, wondering what he would discover inside. In his own eyes, he had not been the best of husbands. He struggled constantly against his rigid traditional upbringing, often failing to display those positive emotions the Lord Yanash embodied. Tenderness and warmth—in his teaching capacity he encouraged their natural expression, yet his private life fell far short of the Master's example.

Is that what T'Naisa would tell him?

oooo

A few miles distant, Antonia had left the warmth of her hearth and was busy rearranging the storage closet in the loft. Reaching back behind her supply of new canvasses, she tugged and pulled until a pair of shrouded paintings came free. They were wrapped together in an old sheet that took some undoing. Propping them side-by-side against the closet wall, she stepped back. With an aching heart she studied the two images of her missing husband. The oldest showed Jim mounted on his favorite stallion. For years it had hung above the downstairs mantel. The second portrait came later, after his return from the Nexus. Jim's salt and pepper hair dipped over his high forehead as he sat tall in his Starfleet uniform. His hazel eyes met her straight on, with an expression as shockingly cold as a serpent's.

Had she noticed at the time? Surely she must have, for his abrupt and final return to the Nexus had come as no surprise. The real Jim Kirk, full of charm and good humor, had abandoned her many years earlier. He might as well be dead to her now, but she had never pursued a legal declaration.

Antonia closed her eyes, shutting out Jim's cold image, just as he had shut her and their children out of his life. Yet a corner of her soul still wept for him. Her love did not easily die—for Jim _or_ for Spock. To think that it was right here, in this very storage closet, that she had once impulsively declared her feelings to the Vulcan. Two men, so completely different…yet both of them so dear to her heart.

The persistent gale whistled in the rafters, shaking the sturdy house down to its foundation. Coming to a decision, she carried the portrait of Jim on horseback down to the living room and returned it to its former place of honor.

oooo

 _How could he have overlooked it?_ Still seated on his bed, Spock slipped an unsteady finger into the paper's fold. His pulse raced with apprehension as he spread it flat. The letter was dated one week before she vanished.

 _"My Dearest Husband,_

 _"If you are reading these words, it can only mean that I have gone from this life into the next. Who would have thought that I would be the first to die? Perhaps some time has passed before you…or someone else…came across this letter. I hope and pray that by now your grief has eased. Though we faced our share of difficulties, we had many good years together. Miraculous years, in view of all the pain this Cadet Brandt once caused you, my Commandant._

 _"Yanash taught me how to love, but I was never worthy of you. Now that I am gone, I want you to get on with your life. Live well, my darling, and look after our sweet Tess. Live well and prosper._

 _T'Naisa"_

oooo

The storm raged for two solid days, ripping away branches and toppling trees that had stood for more than a century. On the final night, an old gnarled pine crashed through the roof of Antonia's room, narrowly missing her bed. Snow spattered her face as she grabbed her pillow and moved downstairs to the guestroom.

In the morning, all was quiet and it seemed natural to call Spock. She was upstairs surveying the damage when he landed outside in his skimmer. The hum of a snow blaster kicked in, and before long her doorbell was ringing.

From the upper landing she called, "Come on in!"

Bundled against the cold, Spock entered with a laser saw hanging from his shoulder. His two seminarians followed him inside, and they climbed the stairs to Antonia's bedroom. Spock's eyebrow disappeared into his knitted cap when he saw the gaping roof and frozen tangle of limbs near her bed.

"I'm just glad it didn't hit the paintings in my loft," she told him.

The look in his eyes suggested that he was at least equally concerned about her welfare. _Or was she only_ _imagining it?_ Standing aside, she watched him laser the limbs into manageable chunks that the younger men tossed out a broken window. It was a side of him that she had never seen, working like a rancher in denim and jacket, getting his hands good and dirty. In a matter of minutes, the worst of the mess was cleared.

As Spock shut down the saw, loving gratitude welled in her. "Thank-you," she said. "All of you…I really appreciate your help."

The seminarians smiled openly and even Spock's lips stirred a bit as he nodded. "You said you have a household field emitter?"

"In the loft."

The young Vulcans remained behind, gathering up twigs and pine needles as Spock followed her to the loft stairway. Acutely aware of his nearness, she started up the ladder-like steps. She had effortlessly mounted them countless times, but halfway to the top her foot slipped and she fell backward, nearly taking Spock down with her. She felt him catch his balance. Then his left arm was around her waist, holding her snugly against him.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his breath warm on her ear.

Feeling lightheaded, she managed to stammer, "No...no, I'm fine. I've never tripped on these steps before. Good thing you were here."

Her heart was still pounding wildly when they entered the loft. A votive candle flickered at a religious shrine in a nearby corner. Spock stopped there, quietly gazing at the crucifix as she rummaged in a cabinet for the emitter.

"Oh, here it is!" she said.

Spock came over and took the box from her hands. For a moment he looked deeply into her eyes, as if he might be about to say something. Antonia held her breath, hoping, while the loft rang with silence. But without speaking a word, he turned and headed for the steps.

It took Spock only a moment to engage the protective field that would keep out the weather and wildlife until Antonia could have the damage repaired. He was on his way downstairs, with the seminarians behind him, when he heard the unmistakable ring of a transporter beam. In a corner of the living room, particles of light swirled and coalesced into a solid human form.

Sam Kirk quickly looked around and stiffened at the sight of Spock and his companions. He moved toward them with a frown much like his father's and a voice that matched perfectly. "What's going on?"

Spock stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Good morning, Sam. We have been assisting your mother with her storm damage."

Sam's frown deepened. "I told her _I_ was coming." A rattle of pots drew his attention, and he strode off toward the kitchen with an unmistakable show of anger.

Spock sent the seminarians out to the skimmer and lingered alone by the fireplace, warming his hands as he waited to take leave of Antonia. His eyes rose and widened with surprise as he discovered the old painting of Jim Kirk on horseback. Though the kitchen door was closed, his acute Vulcan hearing made it impossible to shut out Sam's intense conversation with his mother.

"Mom, I don't want them here—not _any_ of them! One of Spock's Vulcans raped Jenny!"

"Not one of _his_ Vulcans," Antonia countered in a much lower voice. "And even if that were true, it had nothing to do with Spock…or these other men."

Sam snapped, "Since when does he come around cleaning up after storms? He never did that before T'Naisa ran off…back when you looked your age!"

 _Before T'Naisa ran off._ Those blunt words cut Spock deeply, and the latter implication was likewise painful. Staring at the flames, he recalled the sensation of Antonia's touch as she urgently declared her love for him years ago. Just now, he had experienced a similar shock when she slipped on the steps and he caught her. In that instant of contact there was no mistaking the desire she still felt for him.

This was indeed a delicate situation. Meanwhile, the kitchen argument continued to heat.

"How dare you!" Antonia chided her son. "It was an act of kindness, nothing more!"

But Sam stubbornly refused to accept her explanation. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Spock turned and saw Antonia's computer. Quietly he composed a message and left it displayed on the screen.

 _"Forgive me for departing so abruptly, but I must return to my duties. Spock."_

oooo

The confrontation with Sam left Antonia so shaken that she carefully avoided her neighbor for six months. In August, she traveled to Colorado to produce some artwork for use in a Warner Brothers movie. The studio needed a portrait of the starring actor, Nayo. It was first time Antonia had met Spock's infamous brother. Despite his devilish goatee and the long hair demanded by his role, one could clearly see he was Spock's twin. But there the resemblance ended. Antonia felt no attraction to the worldly actor with the stink of tobacco on his clothes.

At lunchtime she stepped out into a hallway and nearly bumped into Spock. He stopped short, clearly startled to find her at the studio. Regaining her own composure, she briefly explained her business at Warner's, and Spock told her that he was serving as Starfleet technical advisor on his brother's movie.

"Of course," she said, remembering his name on other movie credits. "Sorry to cut this short, but I'm famished. How do I get to the food court?"

"I'll show you," he said, reversing course.

They entered a crowded turbolift. With his hands clasped behind his back, he quietly asked if she was eating alone. It seemed such a strange question coming from a Vulcan, that it put Antonia's thoughts in a whirl.

"Yes, alone," she replied, and found herself adding, "Why? Did you think I might be eating with your brother?"

The lift doors opened directly onto the noisy food court.

Noticing that Spock had not responded to her question, she asked another. "Would _you_ like to join me?"

"If you wish," he replied.

They chose their lunch and sat at one of the few empty tables. As usual, Spock ate a meatless entrée, but Antonia was no vegetarian. Downing a turkey sandwich, she scarcely noticed the costumed celebrities in the crowd. Her mind was fully focused on the man seated across from her.

Halfway through the meal she gathered the courage to say, "Spock...I should have apologized long before this. After the storm, when you were at my house...I'm sorry that you had to hear Sam and me arguing. He can be rather…headstrong."

"Like his father," Spock observed. Seeing her face sadden, he set his fork down. "That was an insensitive remark. Now _I_ must apologize."

She shook her head and took a sip of iced tea, clearing the lump from her throat. "Jim was no saint, even before he first went into the Nexus. But afterward..." Remembering the icy look in her husband's eyes, she shivered. "I said goodbye to _my_ Jim a long time ago. I sometimes…wonder if he's dead."

Spock studied her, the food going cold on his plate.

Contritely Antonia said, "Oh, I've got you thinking of T'Naisa. Strange that we both have missing spouses, but it's different with her. She was _happy_."

Visibly gathering himself, he said, "Yes. So it seemed. As for Jim, I can tell you beyond a doubt that he is still alive."

Antonia was stunned. "How can you know that? T'Naisa was your bondmate, but Jim was just a friend."

"Vulcans sometimes establish very deep bonds of friendship. In a brotherly sense, Jim was… _is…_ my _t'hy'la_."

Mulling over his astonishing words, she shook her head. "But the first time Jim entered the Nexus, you thought he was dead. You even told Tru."

Spock's eyes grew distant, as if harking back to that wrenching moment. "Yes. I did tell your daughter…because I put my trust in the evidence rather than my own inner sense. I regret it now."

Antonia hardly knew what to say. Things would be so much easier if Jim _were_ dead. Would Spock consider her wicked for thinking it? For wishing that she… _and_ Spock…were both free? Eyes downcast, she went back to her sandwich, but her mouth was almost too dry to swallow.

The chatter in the food court seemed to grow louder. A few tables away, people burst into laughter. Antonia glanced up and found Nayo sharing a joke with some fellow actors.

She smiled wanly. "Your brother," she said. "Look at him over there."

Spock's dark, intense eyes narrowed as he watched Nayo.

oooo

From Colorado, Spock left on a tour of Yanashite outposts scattered throughout Earth. But even as he immersed himself in official business, his mind was also working on more personal questions. Since the studio lunch he had been forced to examine his brother's behavior. While at table with Antonia he had observed Nayo flirting heavily with a young, curvaceous co-star. Each time Antonia mentioned Nayo's portrait, Spock had experienced a stirring of apprehension. The thought of Nayo sitting for his neighbor was profoundly disturbing. If the rumors were true, Nayo seldom passed up an opportunity for seduction.

And now he had to ask himself: _Why does it matter so deeply?_ He had long admired Antonia's talent and found her company pleasant, but was something other than admiration at work here? He knew that she still loved him, and there was no denying that he felt a need to protect her. She was Jim's wife. They also shared a bond of suffering—bereft of their spouses, left to wonder if they would ever see them again. Surely it was not improper to lend Antonia some support, but he must take care.

At a small Yanashite enclave in Xinjiang, China, Spock set aside a day of solitude. Wearing sand boots and a hooded Vulcan cape, he set off into the barren Kumtang Desert. The sun beat down pleasantly as he continued to scrutinize his relationships with Nayo and Antonia. Inevitably that analysis led to painful thoughts of T'Naisa. Walking the shimmering brown dunes, he reviewed the frustrating lack of progress in locating his missing bondmate. The detective agency continued to drain his bank account without yielding one solid piece of evidence.

To whom could he turn? In the late 21st century, some scholars asserted that Sherlock Holmes was not a fictional character. Professor Charles Grayson, Spock's human grandfather, claimed to have traced the family's genealogy back to the famous English detective. As a boy, Spock had found the idea fascinating. As a man, he had attempted to prove the familial connection without satisfactory results. Perhaps it was not entirely logical, but he continued to feel a certain kinship with the stoic, intellectual detective. And now he could not help thinking that if Sherlock Holmes were on the job, T'Naisa would have been found long ago.

Absorbed by these speculations, Spock came to a halt. There was no longer any question in his mind. When the tour ended, he would return to Colorado for a chat with his brother, and then seek out a new detective agency.

oooo

At first Nayo laughed in his brother's face. Though the movie was on its last day of filming, he had thought Spock was visiting as a technical advisor. Then, in the privacy of Nayo's dressing room, Spock dared advise him on personal matters.

"There has been talk," Spock said. "With your wife on assignment and your loose, undisciplined behavior…"

Nayo's laughter came to an end, and he exploded with anger. "Spock, you may fancy yourself a bigwig, but you're not in charge of me, brother…and you never will be. What is this really about? Now that T'Naisa is out of the picture, perhaps you want Sola Thane for yourself? After all, you two _do_ have a past together."

Spock seemed appropriately affronted, yet managed a passable retort. "Your sense of insecurity never ceases to astound me. Your wife is yours. I do not want her, but I am dismayed at the way in which you reward her devotion."

Nayo very nearly shoved him out the door. Then an amusing thought occurred to him and his eyes narrowed. "Oh, brother, admit it. Who are you really concerned about? Could it be that lovely neighbor of yours? She says so many nice things about you. I saw you two sharing a cozy table at the food court and I couldn't help wondering what else you've shared." It pleased him to see Spock's face go all stony. Oh, he had struck a bitter nerve, alright. "And you dare speak to me about propriety? What a hypocrite you are."

At that, he lit a cigarette and held it out. "Care for a smoke?"

With a scathing look, Spock turned and left the room.

For a long while Nayo just stood enjoying his cigarette as he thought over the amusing confrontation. Then his mind turned to the week ahead, when he would be free of work. And with a devilish smile he decided, _first thing, a haircut and shave._

Yes, for a start, that would do nicely.

oooo

In Idaho, the warmth of summer lingered well into October. At a time when the mountain air was normally growing crisp, Antonia left the bedroom windows open, enjoying the cool night breeze that stirred the lacy curtains beside her bed. By the light of the moon she lay on her back, staring at the solidly rebuilt ceiling. Yesterday Spock had phoned her, and the pleasing sound of his baritone voice still lingered in her mind. Incredibly, he had proposed a day trip…by skimmer…to a beautiful spot in the high country. He had been careful to let her know that no one else would be coming along. He would understand if she was not comfortable with the idea. He would understand if she declined the invitation, but it would be a good opportunity to gather material for future paintings.

 _Not go?_ She had jumped at the chance, volunteering to rearrange her schedule and bring lunch. And now, listening to the plaintive hoot of an owl, she tried to calm herself. _You're making too much of this, Toni. He is only interested in my art. Go to sleep, or you'll be worthless tomorrow._

Reaching under her pillow for her worn wooden rosary, she firmly reminded herself that nothing serious could develop between them unless both Jim and T'Naisa were declared dead. And that was not likely to happen any time soon.

At nine sharp, Spock landed his skimmer in the wide-open yard by Antonia's big log house. She was ready and waiting on the porch, dressed casually like him. Grabbing her well-stocked picnic basket and a coat, she ran over before he could power down. He triggered her door open from the pilot seat and she jumped inside, smiling as eagerly as a child on a field trip.

He asked, "Did you remember your camera?"

She patted her shirt pocket and strapped herself in. More excited than ever, she said, "So what is this big secret of yours? Where are you taking me?"

His slanted eyebrow rose. "Patience, my dear. You will soon see."

 _My dear._ Antonia's head spun as the skimmer rose under Spock's expert guidance. They soared off toward the high country and she settled back, enjoying his quiet company even more than the spectacular view. The skimmer followed the steep ridgelines, buffeted by an occasional updraft as it swept along, steadily gaining altitude. Several minutes passed. Down below, Antonia spied the trailing mist of a waterfall, and inspiration struck her.

She swung around in her seat and looked at Spock. "It's Jamie's hidden valley, isn't it? That's where we're going!"

With a hint of a mysterious smile, Spock glanced her way. "Is it?"

The skimmer cleared a peak and dipped toward a little vale nestled between the rocky crests. Deer grazing beside a lake lifted their heads from the lush meadow and bounded away. Antonia was too enthralled to speak. Years ago, Spock's youngest son James had tracked wild horses to this secret refuge.

Spock was landing the skimmer at the edge of a forest when she found her voice. "Oh my God, look at this place! It's gorgeous!"

At the first possible instant she burst out the door and turned slowly, taking in every magnificent angle until her eyes found Spock. A few paces away, he stood quite still, looking only at her. There was no containing the impulse. Rushing over, she threw her arms around him and kissed his clean-shaven cheek.

"It's wonderful," she said, breathing in his good Vulcan scent. Getting hold of herself, she stepped back and told him how she had always longed to visit this valley. The intensity of his gaze made her heart pound even harder, and she could not seem to look away.

"There is something I must say," he softly told her. "If it does not please you, we will never speak of it again."

Somehow, she nodded. As he moved nearer, she saw the valley reflected in his eyes, and it was as if he had become her entire world.

Quietly he continued, "We have both known great loss...and the loneliness it brings. But when I am with you…"

She wanted to tell him that she understood, that he made her feel more alive than she had felt in a long while. But remembering her humiliation that other time, long ago, she held back. Perhaps she was misreading him again.

Her heart leaped as he took hold of her hand. Still facing her, he said, "When I am with you, I am no longer lonely."

The breath caught in her throat. _Now would he speak of love?_

"Forgive me," he said, "but I must ask a very personal question. Have you truly put Jim Kirk behind you?"

Antonia frowned. She did not want to talk about Jim...or T'Naisa…and the demands of those marital bonds. As she delayed, Spock released her hand and he nodded as if everything was clear and settled, and life would go on as before.

"So," he surmised, "you still hope for his return."

She shook her head adamantly. "I said no such thing. You believe Jim is still alive, but as far as I'm concerned, he might as well be dead." Her pulse racing, she asked him, "And what of T'Naisa?"

A look of deep sadness crossed his face. "I have come to the conclusion that she deliberately left me and will never come back."

Stirred to her depths, Antonia said, "Then she's a fool!" Yet try as she might, she could not truly believe it. "No, Spock. T'Naisa would never have left you willingly. She _loved_ you." _As do I._

For a time they just gazed at one another as the chilly mountain breeze riffled their hair. Then he leaned toward her and she lifted her face to his, yearning for the touch of his lips.

Instead, he spoke. "Antonia, you are a most…intriguing woman."

The breath caught in her throat, but the brief thrill of joy ended in a crush of guilt. One ardent kiss might have pushed her beyond it, but there he stood, holding himself aloof while her thoughts ran wild.

Then he said, "Shall we explore your valley?"

 _Were Vulcans given to double entendres? Surely he did not mean…_ She gave herself a mental shake and pulled out her camera. "Let's go."

All morning she worked at concealing her tumultuous emotions as she set up camera shots for later use in her art studio. The sun was high overhead when they retreated to the warmth of the skimmer and shared the food in her picnic basket. Since fried chicken was out of the question, she had packed vegetarian sushi, cheese and fruit, along with her Mexican green bean salad. And of course, plenty of hot tea.

Spock seemed unusually relaxed and the conversation turned to his brother, Nayo. "Be perfectly honest with me," he said. "What do you think of him?"

She chose her words carefully. "He's so different from you. So…worldly."

His eyebrow rose and he set down his mug of tea. "Are you implying that I am unsophisticated?"

"Hardly that," she replied. "I could picture you in evening dress at a grand ball."

"But not Nayo?"

"Oh yes, he'd be there…with a voluptuous starlet on each arm."

His lips curved upward and his eyes smiled at her in a way that left little doubt in her mind. Surely he had deep feelings for her. Here, in the close confines of the skimmer, would he admit to something more than friendship? And then what? She could almost hear old Father O'Day warning her, _Step carefully, Antonia. Yours is an ardent nature._

Suddenly his wrist phone chimed. Excusing himself, he stepped outside to answer the call. Alone in the skimmer, Antonia watched him. He had turned his back toward her and was speaking so intently that a stab of fear seized her. _Was it some word of T'Naisa? Was it T'Naisa herself? And here she was, in an isolated mountain valley, lusting after her best friend's husband._

She was repacking the picnic basket when Spock opened the driver door and asked, "Would you like me to take you home now?"

 _So it was not T'Naisa._ Gazing out at the meadow, she sighed, not ready to leave this beautiful place…and him…just yet. Finding her voice, she said, "Can you fly us to the other side of the lake?"

From the southern end, the views were just as spectacular. Antonia passed the afternoon capturing every nuance of light as the sun sank below the encircling mountain peaks. The thin air cooled until she could see her breath. Side by side with Spock, she leaned against the dusky shape of his skimmer, but as the first star appeared, he began to pace in an uncharacteristic manner.

Troubled by his strange behavior, she said, "I…I really do need to get home, now."

He came to a halt, a sardonic hint of a smile playing over his lips. "Very well. If you wish."

As the skimmer sailed through the velvet night, Antonia sat in quiet confusion. After landing at her ranch, Spock shut down the power, no doubt intending to see her safely to the door. The sight of the empty house and its dark lonely windows sent a pang through her.

Somehow she found the courage to speak. "Spock...I'm not sure this outing was a good idea."

"Oh?" The skimmer's faint interior light cast shadows over his angular face.

"You've always been a fine friend to me...and at times I _have_ dreamed of something more…" Her voice caught with emotion. "That's the whole trouble, you see…" Thoroughly embarrassed, she grabbed the picnic basket, opened the passenger door, and jumped out. She was almost to the porch when she heard Spock's footsteps coming fast behind her.

"Antonia," he said urgently.

With a pounding heart she stopped in her tracks. As she turned toward him, the porch light detected their presence and came on. She could see his face clearly and it jolted her. There was no mistaking the carnal message in his eyes or her answering thrill of desire.

"I also have needs," he declared thickly.

The basket slid from her grip and hit the ground.

Moving near, he took her hand and she did not have the strength to pull away. She knew full well that it was wrong, but there was no stopping as he drew her into a deep kiss. She had learned from T'Naisa that a Vulcan's kiss shared intimate thoughts and feelings. Then why was his mind walled off? Like her, was he thinking of T'Naisa?

When at last they parted, her pounding heart felt heavy in her chest. "Spock," she said. "Your wife…"

His eyes narrowed in a rather calculating manner. "What of her? Who is to know what passes between us? Our properties adjoin. We can come and go as we please. Haven't we already enjoyed forbidden pleasures?"

The shocking words cooled the last of her ardor. "No…we _haven't_ , and you know it! How can you say such a thing?"

He shrugged as if it was of no concern to him. Wordlessly he pulled something out of his jacket and cupped his hands near his face. A little light flared. Antonia stared in disbelief as he lit a cigarette and took a deep puff. He coolly inhaled the smoke and began to laugh. _Laugh!_

All at once it became painfully clear. No wonder this man had at times seemed strange to her. No wonder he had begun pacing in the mountain valley, after so many hours without tobacco. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Antonia erupted in fury. "Nayo! Pretending to be your brother! I should have guessed! Spock would _never…_ "

"Ah, the holy Spock. You're quite right, I suppose. He wouldn't eat a neighbor's plum if it dropped right into his hand." He took another drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a stinking cloud. "Sorry, my dear, I simply could not resist. I really _had_ hoped to uncover a little intrigue, but Spock is much too boring." His eyes danced with amusement. "Notice though, you didn't wipe off that kiss when you thought it belonged to him…and I can _swear_ that you kissed back, and quite nicely. Care for another?"

"Get…off…my…property," she seethed.

"Was that a blush I saw? Well, goodnight, dear lady. I'll leave you to your dreams."

Dreams? More like nightmares. As she watched his skimmer leave, she raised her wrist phone…then stopped herself. _No. Spock needn't hear about this. He must never know what his brother did today._

oooo

The hour was late when Spock shut down his computer and stepped outside. Crickets were chirping loudly. A pleasant breeze stirred the tree limbs as the moon rose above them. He could not help but wonder if, from some unknown locale, T'Naisa was also gazing upon this same sky.

Focusing on their strangely muted bond, he reached out to her yet again. _Ashayam. Where are you? Where?_

Though every fiber of his mind awaited the least response, there was only silence.

oooOOooo


End file.
